FiddleStan Drabbles and Blurbs
by NemoAves
Summary: Fiddlestan drabbles and blurbs I've written or will write or post on tumblr. This is for you folks who walk through these alleys but not those gutters. Prescribes to Mystery Trio Fandom cuz YEAH ENJOY Now has Fiddauthor in it. *All stories written before A Tale of Two Stans (Chs1-5), the names will remain unchanged.
1. ShapeShifter

**GF Drabbles: Thwarting the Shapeshifter's First Escape**

**Original Prompt from hereissomething: **

_[When the Shapeshifter attacks Fids and leaves him in the depths of the bunker, Shifter shuts off the electricity in that area, effectively limiting Fids' possibilities of using technology to contact the Pines. Fids tries to cry out for help, but he is too hurt to make his voice loud enough to be heard past the decontamination chamber. He is also too weakened from Shifter's assault to move his body across the floor to the metal door. Fids is momentarily overwhelmed with fear and pain._

_Once Fids gets his wits about him, a brainwave hits: he loudly taps out a distress signal on the nearest water pipe with a rock. Each clang is painful in his ears, as the Shifter kicked him in the head before he left; but Fids grits through it. Fids knows where the plumbing is situated in the bunker, he prays the twins will hear his rhythmic banging through the pipes. Eventually they catch on and seek him out, in spite of Fake Fids' attempts to stall them._

_I lost sleep over this and now its 6am. _

_My lengthened drabble. Enjoy!]_

Escape #1.

Fiddleford couldn't blame anyone but himself for what had happened. At least for now. If-when, he had to be positive here or he would surely be dead- when he got out of this he would give Stanley and Stanford an earful. But for now he could only blame himself as he lay on the cold ground of the lab, a shiv made out of a bit of metal sticking out of his belly.

The shape shifter- or Experiment #210 as Stanley had labelled it- had gotten the better of Fiddleford. The research assistant had stayed behind in the bunker to continue work on some data from the lab while Stanford and Stanley had gone up to get some food and relax for a bit. Fiddleford said he would join them when he finished and they had agreed.

He had almost completed his work, his stomach helpfully reminding him of how long it would be since he had last eaten when it happened. He had never trusted the creature that Stanley found, though he'd done his best to "play nice". And it seemed to like him well enough in return.

From day one after hatching it had waited and watched. It's truly inhuman form a constant reminder of what it was until it had gotten a chance to show its skills. Afterward Fiddleford had never seen it as itself unless it was asleep, proving that keeping an alternate form was an active process, at least at some level.

It was a voracious reader and it possessed a quick mind, too quick. Fiddleford always noticed it when the creature tried to be sly; first it was small things. An extra bit of food there, a more advanced book here. It seemed to make a point to take on "attractive forms" during down time; cute children or animals, plants, people. There was an odd affinity for the mascot of a brand of canned beans that Stanley liked.

But lately…lately it had seemed to have its eyes on a bigger prize. In recent weeks there had been more requests for things about the current world: newspapers, postcards or photos of Gravity Falls, maps. This could be excused, or at least Stanley did.

"It's a growing being that we've taken in from the world, it deserves to know about It.", he had reasoned to both Fiddleford and Stanford. They both remained mostly unconvinced. Well, really it was Fiddleford who was unconvinced, Stanford supported him to keep him happy.

So only limited information had been given to the creature. But still, the thirst for useful knowledge remained.

Just the other day…it had asked to see Stanley's journal. Thankfully the studious Pines twin was not a completely naive sap, and also a rather private, slightly paranoid person. So Stanley had refused. The creature hadn't pressed the issue, glibly saying "It was worth a try!" and laughed it off. Stanley had laughed with him and walked away. But Fiddleford had been watching from the corner of his eye and had seen the slit-eyed glare send at Stanley's back. He'd nearly jumped out of his skin when that thunderous gaze was suddenly directed at him.

So he should not have been surprised. Or been so gullible. But he had been distracted and hungry. The creature worked with this to its utmost advantage. It had begun by starting a conversation, lounging in its containment area as that baked beans mascot. It had an odd habit of making sure to take this form when talking to Fiddleford.

It was casual, asking about his day and what he had been working on. Fiddleford had been polite yet vague, like always. But then there was a yelp, sounding like that of a kicked dog. Fiddleford had turned from his calculations, surprisingly concerned. The creature laid curled up on the ground, moaning and yipping. Cautiously Fiddleford had approached, and watched as the shifter shuffled through several forms as it writhed about.

"Fiddleford-"The mascot started.

"-help me." A gnome continued.

"I don't know-"A Venus fly trap began.

"-what's happening!" A child ended.

"Please!" Pleaded the creature itself.

Seeing it's natural form seemed to push him into action, the wrong action. Instead of contacting the others he had rushed into the enclosure. Hoping he could see what it was.

Stupid nerd. Stupid gullible nerd.

As soon as Fiddleford had entered, the creature turned into Fiddleford himself and made motions as if trying to stand. Fiddleford rushed forward to support it and had begun to ask what specifically was the matter. He had barely gotten the first word of the question out when suddenly a sharp pain shot up through his abdomen.

"I'm sorry Fiddleford. I can't let anyone get in my way. Not even you."

Fiddleford collapsed to the ground, tears coming out of his eyes from the pain.

"W-why?" He managed to choke out as he helplessly watched his doppelganger pick up his fallen glasses and place them on his face.

The creature seemed insulted by the question. "Why? You, who is always watching me, can't guess?!"

It stomped over to the smaller man who had begun to bleed upon the floor and towered over him.

"I want out. I want freedom. And I want the journal!"

It grinned a vicious grin and then directed an even more vicious kick to Fiddleford's head. Now it was him who was making the kicked dog sound, he saw stars and ended up shifting in a way that the shiv in his belly went that little bit deeper.

The pain. The horrible, visceral explosion of stimuli passing through screaming nerves. It saved him from unconsciousness. Black spots filled his vision as he watched himself walk away, an uncharacteristic cackle coming from his mouth.

"See you McSuckit! I have a lunch date with your boyfriend and his brother!"

With a final chuckle the creature made its way out of the bunker, but not before flipping the switches. Leaving him in complete, helpless darkness, with the other things that Stanley liked to keep in the lab. Fiddleford tried to scream, but all that came out was a dry rasp. Barely audible enough to reach the decontamination chamber. His head was spinning and full of pain.

He had panicked. He was still panicking. The statistics he had read concerning wounds and bleeding rates during his personal crash course in first aid during his first few days with the twins ran mockingly through his head. He could hear his heart beat in his ears and felt a corresponding trickle of blood leak out of him past the weapon still in his body.

For a moment he gave into despair and simply laid here in a growing puddle of his blood.

"No. No. I won't die like this. I won't let it end like this." A hot stream of righteous anger began to fill him and set some order to his scattered thoughts. He'd teach that creature. And he'd teach the Pines twins to listen to him!

Almost without bid, Fiddleford's brain immediately began going through his medical knowledge. He pressed a hand to his wound, applying pressure to try and stem the bleeding. He left the shiv alone, it was the only thing keeping the rest of his blood from gushing out.

Okay, now he needed to get help. Electronic communication was out, getting out of the bunker was out. He was in no condition to move very far on his own. What to do. What to do-

The pipes.

Stanford, the brilliant cheapskate that he was, had dug into the earth himself and connected the plumbing of the Shack to the bunker. These pipes, though sturdy enough, had this odd echoing affect to them. Even through miles of distance and earth, if one were to knock upon the pipes at one end, it would be heard on the other.

And the twins knew some Morse code.

Fiddleford himself knew an amount himself, one never truly stopped being a student after all.

He still had some time!

With fortitude Fiddleford made his way blindly into the dark, he knew that some pipes were nearby, exposed out of the wall. On his way he came upon a large rock, one of the many things that littered the area of the lab. It would have to do. Eventually he made his way to the pipes. He found a sturdy one and then began his message.

S.O.S IMPOSTER.

The cacophonous clanging of rock on cheap metal crashed against his sensitive head. But he had to ignore it. He had to get a hold of those idiots.

S.O.S. NOT ME

He had to warn them.

CODE BLACK

His shoulder ached. His breath was getting short. He couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop. He would protect his friends. His blood ran warm past his cold fingers.

S.O.S. IMPOSTER.

He would save them. Or die trying.

CODE BLACK.

Stanley blinked. He thought he had heard something. He looked up from his newspaper and looked over at Stanley and Fiddleford. The two were talking, his twin doing his best to try and "flirt" with their newest member with jibes and good natured teasing. But the dynamic seemed a bit off today.

Instead of being embarrassed or playfully acting along, the smaller man seemed bored. Distracted even. His eyes kept scanning the room, and he seemed to make excuses to move about more than usual. Stanford of course didn't seem to notice, just going on with what they were talking about. Trying to corner Fiddleford so to steal a kiss or a grope. The usual. But the other always seemed to slip away, just in time.

But then would say or do something that would keep his brother from giving up. It was odd, but refreshing. Fiddleford was learning to tease…

…now if only they'd do this when Stanley wasn't around. Another time, another place he might have enjoyed the show, and really it was funny to see his brother strike out over and over again, but right now he wasn't really in the mood to watch homoerotic content. Especially the kind involving his twin brother.

With a muted sigh Stanley took a bite of his sandwich and then turned back to his paper, he'd found his place in the current story he was reading when he heard it again.

A clang. And then another. And then another. He remained still, trying to figure out what it was and afraid that he'd lose it if he moved. The more paranoid part of his mind was telling him to listen, so he did.

…STER.

S.O.S. HELP M-

"Stanley!"

The addressed Pines twin jolted as Fiddleford suddenly appeared next to him, an odd grin on his face.

"Uh, yes?"

"You think maybe I could take a look at the journal? I have some data I want to cross reference."

Stanley blinked, confused.

"But I'm in the middle of revising it, remember? Which bit do you need to see?"

He watched as Fiddleford's eyes narrowed the slightest bit, as if in agitation. His smile got a bit harder as he began to respond.

"Well I-"

"Will you two shuddup? I'm trying to listen."

Stanford's voice cut through the room. Its seriousness and gruffness a surprise. Stanley looked over at his twin and noted his stance, it was completely rigid and his hands were half raised. The fingers curled into loose fists. His head was tilted toward the direction Stanley had heard the clanging noise from.

In the now silent room the noise was much more audible.

-O.S. CODE BLACK

IMPOSTER.

IMPOSTER.

Imposter.

"What weird noises. Damn neighborhood kids." Came "Fiddleford's" nonchalant reply.

The Pines twins only had to share a look for a fraction of a second. Something wasn't right. They all knew what those clangs were. And what they meant. Or at least, the three of them knew. The method of emergency communication had been set up long ago.

"How were those calculations you were crunching in the bunker Fidds? I forgot to ask when you came in." Stanley put on a smile and acted his part, the perfect image of causality.

"Fiddleford" blinked, derailed once more.

"Good. I finished them. Mostly-I need to take a quick skim of the journal to be sure."

Stanley narrowed his eyes. Just a bit. That was a lie.

Stanford was already on the move,

"Stanford where are you going?" Called the shape shifter after Stanford, he had gone into the other room. Where Stanley knew he had left his special knuckle dusters.

The clanging had stopped.

The absence of the noise was deafening.

"#201 what did you do?" Stanley's voice was steely.

The shape shifter gave a laugh. His strained grin gaining a psychotic edge.

"Can't you tell? You six-fingered nerd."

The creature began to laugh as it shifted, going back to its default form. It began to roar right in Stanley's face but then the head was smashed to the side. Stanford moved like lightening, his fists flying with anger and power.

"Go check on Fiddleford!" He called over as he tangled with his opponent.

The creature turned into a donkey, much bigger than any real one would be, and immediately charged, Stanford effortlessly jumped on it and the two crashed out of the house. After checking to see that his brother could handle himself and would subdue the creature- thankfully its range of forms was still very limited- Stanley ran off to the bunker.

Thankfully Fiddleford would live to see another day, and both of the Pines brothers were more than happy to hear him rage and scold them.


	2. Viva Las Vegas

**All Aboard the S.S. McGrunckle**

_[SO! Here is this small blurb I wrote in connction to the idea of Stan and Fiddleford getting married in Las Vegas instead of him and Goldie._

_This is set when they are younger and has Stanley in it- because I can't fucking accept another reality. ( I may have written this to help cope with the new episode.)_

_So let us sail through Golden Year Harbor!]_

Cash Money- Viva Las Vegas

Fiddleford groaned as he opened his eyes, he smacked his lips and grimaced at the slight taste of bile at the back of his throat. Stanford really hadn't been kidding about his "hook up", Rich People Water was quite the beverage. Even his rather impressive tolerance was shot.

As was his memory. What had happened? He stared at the ceiling as his mind rebooted.

They had all been listless for the last few days, they somehow had become frustrated and bored with the whole paranormal/ messing with things beyond their comprehension shtick and Stanford had been in the mood to gamble. So with very little planning-and a bit of drinking- the three of them had packed into the car and headed off to Las Vegas.

They had booked a decent hotel and somehow Stan had gotten his hands on a ridiculously priced alcohol for cheap and then….

It was a blank.

A snore at his side made Fiddleford turn his head and he got more questions than answers. As a blush ran across his face he realized he was not alone in bed, and he wasn't in bed. Well, not technically. He was on a mattress, but it was on the floor. Stanford slept next to him, half cuddling him in the process. He wore the trashed remains of a suit, the shirt open to reveal his impressive abs and his pants were open and resting below his hips.

Fiddleford himself was in nothing but his wife-beater and an oddly frilly garter was on his left leg. Suddenly he became aware of a soreness, a familiar soreness. Obviously some enthusiastic sexual shenanigans had happened the night before. While they were sharing a room all together. Great.

He groaned again and ran a hand over his face, he stopped though when he realized there was an odd weight to his hand. He brought his palm close to his face because he did not have his glasses on and stared in confusion, which quickly became bewildered panic.

There was a wedding ring on his finger- the wrong one. Instead of the simple, and rather dainty, gold band that had graced his finger for the last number of years there instead was a robust circle of what he guessed was either silver or platinum on his finger.

"Stanford! Stanford wake up!"

The bigger man snorted as he was shaken awake. He groggily squinted at the smaller man next to him.

"W-wha?"

"Stanford please tell me you know about this!"

Fiddleford shoved his slightly trembling hand into the other's face and Stan stared stupidly at it.

"It's a hand. You had two last time I checked." He slightly slurred as he shifted.

"Not my hand you moron. What's on it! Notice anything?!"

Stan grabbed the appendage so he could focus on it.

"Your ring…is different." He said slowly, now more awake but clearly hung over. The other's panic driving the last of his sleepiness away.

"That's exactly-Stanford your HAND!"

Fiddleford's eyes widened as Stan looked as his own limb. And his eyes became just as large.

He had a ring too, a matching one.

"STANLEY!" Both yelled out as they got up, hearts pounding. Fiddleford managed to grab hold of his glasses as he stumbled up and slapped them on his face. He then saw that the room was a wreck. Chairs were toppled, paint on the walls, flowers were everywhere, empty bottles, beds unmade and for some reason there was a chicken in the room.

A round of splashing was heard and both turned to the bathroom in time to see Stanley half stumble to the doorway, half drenched and in a suit of his own. Identical to the one Stan sported. His glasses were askew and his face was covered in kiss marks from someone wearing red lipstick.

"What happened to you?" Asked Stanford.

"It seems I fell asleep in the bath." He said, half dazed.

His gaze fell on the two of them and Fiddleford quickly pulled down his shirt to try and cover his modesty.

"What happened to you two?"

"These two ragazzi incredibili got married!"

All turned in surprise to see a priest pick himself up from behind the mini-bar. Well- he looked like a priest. He had the clothes of a clergyman but he had the slicked back hair and goatee of a used-car salesman.

"Vinny?" Asked Stanford incredulously.

The Italian man grinned as he leaned on the bar.

"Hey Stanny, you and your crew really know how to party! Wildest time last night. Especially your little hubby there, man can gamble. You two made so much cash for the wedding. It was beautiful."

Here he wiped a tear away and gulped down the last dregs of a bottle of champagne that was on the counter.

"Yup. I knew when I gave you that booze for cheap something good would come out of it! And now Vinny's Little Synagogue is the first little chapel to authorize a gay marriage in the state of Nevada!"

They stared in silence at the priest. The chicken clucked not too far away.


	3. A Festive Night

_ For the ingenious Not-amh of tumblr. Who rose to the occasion and made me laugh my ass off. _

_I was given creative freedom with this and it became a somewhat NSFWish threesome thing._

_[please note that I do not prescribe to any naming theories of the twins other than that the Author is Stanley and Mr. Mystery is Stanford. Until the show says otherwise that's how it is for me.]_

_Everyone meets while hammered at Mardi Gras. Please Enjoy the terrible thing I've written._

A Festive Night

Stanley Pines laughed as he watched his brother drink yet another poor slob under the table. They had come down south to enjoy a few days off from responsibilities and to join in on one of the most well-known celebrations worldwide. The American answer to Carnival.

Mardi Gras.

And his incorrigible brother Stanford had never the less found a way to do one of the things he did best: scam the unsuspecting out of some cash. Usually he'd try to stop him, or at least be of the mind to scold him. But the both of them had been pounding hard liquor since the early afternoon and it was well into the night now, he just couldn't be damned to do more than cheer and help his sibling collect the money he had just won before running out of the fifth bar that night.

Fiddleford McGucket gave a soft sigh as he sat at the counter of one of the many bustling bars. He had come down to see family and enjoy himself for the first time in weeks, he was still feeling raw from a mutual- yet no less trying- divorce and was ready to start feeling good again.

That was a hard thing to do after realizing he had lost the group of cousins he had come down with. They had been having a good time up until now; drinking, laughing and flirting with locals and tourists alike. Fiddleford had quite the number of plastic necklaces around his neck, all of them prizes from kissing both men and women silly. He had been drifting in this nice warm cloud of sloshy excitement the entire time, until he realized that he had been left behind.

He furrowed his brow as he tried to think of how that could have happened, he was the shortest of everyone but only by so much. They couldn't have missed him.

So why-

"Rum and coke, on the rocks."

Fiddleford watched as the rather cute bartender placed a drink before him, give a wink and then pass on to the next thirsty customer.

Ah, now he remembered.

His party had wanted to check out a particular section of the festivities, namely the more _sexually oriented_ part of the area. The smaller man hadn't been very up for fully enjoying being single again just yet, so he had declared he would stay there and wait for them before ordering himself a drink that was weaker than what they had been enjoying so far.

He had wanted to wait for them to return before going full throttle again.

They had agreed, said they'd call if they didn't find him later on and had left.

With a shake of his head Fiddleford grabbed his drink and took a large gulp. He frowned a bit and decided that life was short and he would get something much stronger next.

He looked around the current bar he was in, it was full of what seemed to be every type of individual possible and almost all of them were dressed brightly and swaying to the music. Fiddleford himself was in his usual slacks, shirt and sweater vest. But he wasn't ashamed, that was how he did things.

Fiddleford cast his eye around the crowd again and smiled when he saw a few individuals giving him the eye. He smiled back and was just thinking of talking to one of them when the doors to the establishment opened and he saw two tall drinks of water stumble in.

Two twins, obviously tourists; all height and strong thickness and testosterone. They were grinning and laughing with drunken energy, a large number of necklaces around their necks and an absolute lack of anyone hanging onto them.

He watched as they walked up to the bar and ordered themselves something on par to what Fiddleford and his had been drinking earlier. Their laughter and voices were thick, rich and deep. The two of them made quite the show of themselves, showcasing the smart mouth of one in a white muscle shirt and the extra fingers of the other in a black shirt.

Several individuals gave them attention, mostly women, but while they enjoyed the attention there was no connection or intent.

The whole display made what felt like a fire come to life underneath Fiddleford's skin. He didn't know if it was the booze or the air of the festivities or a combination of the two- but he suddenly felt reckless.

He felt lucky.

Fiddleford gave a final gulp from his drink before setting it down and making his way through the crowd. His petite size allowed him the advantage of being able to slip by everyone in his way rather easily. He made it through just in time to hear the one in the white shirt yell,

"Now who wants to see if they can out drink me?! I've beat several of the champs tonight and am still raging to go!"

There was a roar and a clap from the surrounding crowd but no one stepped forward, the current menagerie they found themselves in being more of the mind to enjoy less competitive inebriation. Without thought Fiddleford made his way forward and raised his hand to get the attention of the two of them.

"I reckon I can out last ya, city boy." His accent was let loose with his lack of sobriety and he didn't give a single damn.

All turned to him in surprise, some laughed- tourists- some clapped, and several more cheered.

The challenger raised a brow and gave a look to his brother, who wore a smirk and was calmly drinking out of a shot glass.

"Well, I can tell from yer accent that yer from around town. But-ah no offense short stuff but I think it won't be much of a fight. Ya know?"

Nonplussed, and encouraged by the appraising eyes the two were giving him, Fiddleford gave a smirk and said with confidant loudness,

"Ya sure about that? Come on tough guy, what could it hurt?"

Stanford Pines stared down at the little nerd who had come to take up his challenge of a drink off. He was small and he was cute and he looked about as plastered as he knew he himself and his brother were. But he was coherent and only swaying the slightest bit.

Stanford was in the mood to take one more round of bets before midnight and no one else had stepped up to the plate. Plus that accent was hot.

He turned to his brother and the two shared a look, Stanley's thoughts mirrored his own.

Why the fuck not? Worse come to worse the guy hit his limit early, they'd get their cash and maybe the two of them would be able to coax a few drunken smooches out of the guy afterward. If there was one thing that the Pines brothers liked it was someone attractive, on the slight side and willing to have some fun.

And this little man seemed to be filling all of the requirements, and more.

With a saucy grin Stan held out his hand and said brightly,

"I'm game. Name's Stanford and that's my brother Stanley behind me."

Stanley gave a quick and jaunty hello from his seat.

The smaller man took his hand- holy shit it fit right inside the palm, that was adorable- and replied,

"Charmed. I'm Fiddleford."

Several rounds later Stanford was actually pleasantly surprised to find that Fiddleford was not only keeping up with him but giving him a run for his money. The man was tiny but he could put it away, and he could take banter like a champ and dish it out in turn. His accent just arousing Stanford instead of pissing him off.

Bets were reaching an all-time high that night and he could see Stanley giving him a slightly concerned expression.

They both knew Stanford was about to reach his limit, but he would be damned if he lost to someone who looked like a hot and meek southern librarian. Thankfully it was only a round later that midnight hit; everyone began to cheer and toast and a good amount of attention was taken off the trio.

Stanford felt his brother clap him on the shoulder and he decided that enough was enough, he turned to the smaller male to tell him it was a tie and that they could split the cash when a pair of sweet tasting lips planted themselves on his.

Fiddleford had reached up and given him a quick and festive peck; he was just moving away with a sheepish and apologetic grin on his face when Stan wrapped an arm around his waist and showed him what a real midnight kiss ought to be like.

After that it was blur, he remembered passing the small man to his brother- who promptly gave him an equally heated kiss, which he willingly returned- and then suddenly they were on the street. On the way back to the hotel room the twins had been staying in. The three of them ambled along, the twins trading gropes and kisses with the smaller man enthusiastically.

Stanley Pines grinned as he and his brother lead the way down the hall to their room. His brother's last challenger was an alluring little thing, a seemingly innocent lamb with the inner roar to match their own. He had almost drunk his brother under the table and could kiss like a fiend.

And he didn't seem to possess any qualms about having a threesome with a pair of male twins.

Things were turning out much better than he had expected them to.

With little ceremony he opened the door and his brother ushered the smaller man in. After closing and securing the entry way Stanley shared a look with his brother and in tandem the two of them picked Fiddleford up and plopped him on to one of the beds. They then climbed in after him, settling on either side.

They took a moment to enjoy the sight of their prize, red faced from drinking and arousal and giving them the same look a man dying of thirst gives a cold glass of water. And then they set to work.

Fiddleford couldn't believe himself, if felt like just a moment ago he had been stewing and watching Stanley and Stanford waltz into the bar he had been left behind in. Now he sat in the lap of a shirtless Stanley, naked from the waist down, with an equally shirtless Stanford nestled between his quivering thighs and giving him the blow job of his life.

The louder he cried out in pleasure the more fevered the larger males became in their actions. Fiddleford spent the night being happily passed between the two of them, the entire time his only thoughts were to wish for it to never end.

The next morning he let out a small groan upon waking, the beginnings of a hangover pounding at his temples and his bottom had a telltale soreness. He would have tried to go back to sleep if he hadn't heard snoring on either side of him and felt extremely warm. And content.

With dawning realization he opened his eyes and found himself in the middle of a spooning session, both Stanley and Stanford lay at his sides. Naked as himself and arms wrapped around him possessively. Their faces were not too above his own, he could see that they both wore twin smiles of triumph.

"Oh gosh." He said breathlessly.


	4. Fiddley-Experiment 23

_For the lovely Moonturtle6 of tumblr._

_Prompt - The Author and Fiddleford become the proud parents of a small robot that slowly becomes sentient, and leaves the nest. They both hold each other, on the verge of tears, Fiddleford saying that they raised it well, while watching as their tiny robot gets snatched by an eagle and taken away._

_[please note that I do not prescribe to any naming theories of the twins other than that the Author is Stanley and Mr. Mystery is Stanford. Until the show says otherwise that's how it is for me.]_

Here ya go babe!

Fiddley- Experiment #23

Fiddleford McGucket grinned as he welded and connected the pieces together. For the last few days he and his lab partner Stanley Pines had been hard at work on a little project.

Experiment #23, "The Electronic Assistant". Or in other words, a little robot to help with tasks. Stanley had gotten the idea from dreams induced by some late night pizza and pickles straight from the jar, an event that seemed to be happening more and more often as of late. Fiddleford was going to have to get him to watch what he ate a bit more.

But that was a matter for another time.

"How's the last few adjustments going Doc?"

Fiddleford looked up when he felt a friendly, six-fingered hand on his shoulder. He smiled up at Stanley and felt a slight blush bloom on his face when the larger male smiled widely back.

"Almost done. Just a bit more and we'll see if we've managed to make a lil' robot assistant." He answered brightly.

He turned back to his work and took a small swallow when Stanley didn't leave but instead kept intensely watching, and kept his large hand firmly on the other's shoulder. Stanley grinned a little as he noticed the other's reaction and squeezed Fiddleford's shoulder just a bit before leaning all the closer. Just enough so that his breathe could ruffle the other's hair and play upon his ear.

They had just begun a little something on the side, Fiddleford's marriage had some rather loose boundaries on both sides, and he couldn't help a small tease. Even when his partner was trying to concentrate.

Fiddleford gave Stanley a quick sideways look, to show he knew what he was up to, and pointedly cleared his throat. Which earned a laugh from the larger male, though he still didn't move away or stop.

Fiddleford couldn't help a grin, even as he resolutely fitted the last pieces together of the little humanoid machine they had been working so hard on. The two of them grinned brightly when it activated with a whir and a show of lights. The little thing walked about and seemed to look around before settling its gaze upon them, like a tiny soldier it quick marched toward them a bit, gave a salute and then stood at attention.

"**Command?**" It asked.

Stanley let out an almost squeal of excitement and quickly asked, "How about you get me a pen?"

"Please." Added Fiddleford, without thought.

Stanley gave a small snicker as the little robot looked about the work table he stood upon and spotted the requested writing implement. With movements that were at first clunky but quickly began to smooth out the little thing picked up a pen and brought it back over. It held the pen out and stated,

"**Enjoy. Command?**"

This time both men let out actual squeals (that they would never admit to making) of excitement.

"It works! Fidds it works!" Stanley yelled in excitement before leaning over and giving Fiddleford a quick kiss on the cheek.

The smaller male gave a laugh and a cheer of his own, "Let's see what else he can do."

Fiddleford took the pen from the little robot and said, "Thank you. Now, could you please get me that screwdriver?"

Stanley snickered once more as the little thing went to do as bid and said jokingly, "Always say "please" and "thank you", huh Doc?"

Fiddleford harrumphed good-naturedly at him and retorted, "It never hurts to be polite Stanley."

"**Enjoy. Command?**"

They turned back to the little robot, just as before it held out the requested item dutifully.

"Amazing!" Stanley promptly got his journal and began to scribble in it while he took a seat next to Fiddleford.

Over the next several days the two men tested out the capabilities and limitations of their newest experiment and were both amazed and delighted to see it rise to the occasion time and again. It's complex problem solving software working beyond expectations. And it was very nice to have an extra set, if tiny, hands around.

But despite this, neither were prepared for when the robot did something it had not been programmed to do.

"**What does "caution" mean?**"

Fiddleford looked up from his work in surprise, and stared agog at the tiny robot.

"I-I'm sorry?" He asked in shock.

"**Apologies. But what does "caution" mean? I see it written everywhere and feel it is important**."

"Y-ya read it? Y-ya understood h-how to say it?!" Fiddleford felt his amazement rising.

"**Yes. Is that…bad?**"

Here the little thing cocked its head to the side a bit, like a curious child.

"Oh! N-No no. That's great! A-amazing actually! I- wait here! I need to get Stanley!"

And then he rushed off to get the other male.

When the two realized what they had made together was actually thinking for itself, learning and reading, many congratulations were had and some tears had been shed.

In honor of the little thing's new sense of self Fiddleford and Stanley had decided to give it a proper name. They decided on El, short for "electronic" from Electronic Assistant. Not exactly inspired, but it was short and to the point.

Both continued to watch with pride as the little robot continued to advance, helping them and questioning everything. It reminded Fiddleford of when his son Galen had first begun to notice and be curious of the world around him. And he acted accordingly, encouraging it to wonder and answer what he could.

Stanley had a lot of fun playfully mocking him for it.

But Fiddleford wasn't the only one, the smaller man would grin every time he saw Stanley be sweet with the little thing as well, it was so cute. And every time Stanley caught Fiddleford watching and cooing away he would blush and try to excuse his actions. But they both knew.

When the opportunity for a monster hunt presented itself, they barely thought twice about bringing El along. An extra set of alert eyes was never a bad thing to have, after all.

They set out bright and early, on the hunt for some small creatures who had been of the habit of stealing the socks and underwear off clothes lines in the last few weeks. From the reports of the minimal details people had given, the pair weren't sure what they were. They could be anything from goblins to certain types of pixies, but they were excited all the same. Especially since it seemed like it wasn't just neighborhood kids being hoodlums again, like when everyone's front doorknobs had started going missing.

Taking advantage of the cabin's isolated location they set up not too far away, in a little clearing. Fiddleford and El set up the clothes, socks from Fiddleford himself and the underpants from Stanley, and the trap, a well hidden net. Meanwhile the larger male set up their lookout point and rechecked their gear.

With a final huff Fiddleford tied off the trap and walked over to Stanley, giving him a thumbs up.

"We're all set!" He called happily.

Stanley grinned and nodded, "Same here. El come on. We're ready to start."

The little robot turned around and gave a small wave. "**Ok.**"

It made its way over, unaware that its shiny body and movements had attracted the attention of a certain bird of prey. One that was in the mood for a challenge. The eagle set its sights, and swooped down.

Fiddleford and Stanley watched with pride as El walked over to them, and then they watched in dawning horror as the little thing was suddenly snatched up and carried away by a flash of feathers and talons.

"**Help. Help. Help. Help. Help**." It cried out as the bird flew away.

Fiddleford and Stanley looked on, flabbergasted for a moment, and then began yelling and running off after the two of them.

Eventually they lost sight of the eagle, they also lost the clothes they had set up without gaining any data.

The two didn't return to the Shack until well past nightfall, both a teary mess. Stanley sat on the couch in a tired and depressed heap, Fiddleford quickly joined him.

"I-I can't believe we lost him!" Said the smaller man in weepy horror.

He sniffled and wiped a few more tears from his eyes. He felt Stanley wrap an arm around him and pull him to his side. The larger male sighed and rubbed his hand through his hair.

"I know! I-"

"It's all my fault! If I had picked him up instead of just walking off-!"

Fiddleford's voice took on a slightly hysterical tone as guilt set in. Stanley quickly reacted.

"Doc no! It's not your fault. And it's not mine… Or I guess it's both equally, since I could have just as easily grabbed him too."

"B-b-but Stanley-"

"Ssshhhhhhhhhh." Stanley shushed the other and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"It's alright. We'll find him. I'm sure of it."

He tried for a grin and was glad when Fiddleford gave him one in turn.

Stanley was sure they'd find their little assistant in no time.

El never did make it back home.

But he had many adventures and made many friends. He even found love, in the form of a small fairy named Red Thorn.

He never forgot his kind and supportive creators. And was always thankful they made him solar powered and water proof.


	5. Road Trip Au

_Road Trip AU as suggested by Taccoman of tumblr _

_Blame her and nuttersincorporated for this. One shot for now, I may make some more scattered "updates" at a later time. _

_And yes, it is fiddlestan_

_Enjoy_

Stanford Pines gave a large grin as he opened the car window.

"Ah, this is the life. You and me taking some time off and seeing America. Just us two and the old Caddie on the open road."

Fiddleford looked over at his road trip partner and boyfriend. The larger man hadn't looked this relaxed and happy in months, he wore a pair of aviator sunglasses and his grin had a soft and easy curl to it. Just the way he liked it.

"Sure is beautiful countryside." He commented pleasantly, smiling as he sat easily in the passenger seat.

Instead of his usual "professor get-up", as Stan liked to call it, he wore a comfortable pair of jeans and a plaid button down. He was even wearing sandals, which he had kicked off a while ago.

He wiggled his toes comfortably.

"You would say that, Fiddlesticks." Said Stanford fondly, his easy smile turning into a full on flirtatious grin.

They had been driving for a good hour and had no real destination in mind, other than making sure to visit a Glass Shard Beach before returning home. It was a location of Stanford's youth and he was excited to show it to Fiddleford.

"It is a shame Stanley couldn't come with us..," Tried Fiddleford as he turned to the other man; as he suspected the grin on Stanford's face dimmed just a bit. But not as much as he thought it would.

The larger man snorted.

"Who needs that Poindexter? If he wants to play "grumpy and reclusive college professor" in that cabin he can do it by himself for a while. We'll see who the real 'moron' is when he finds out he hasn't slept in a week and there's no hot food waiting for his unappreciative hermit ass."

Stan's grip on the steering wheel tightened for a moment but then it relaxed as he let out a breath.

"But whatever, let's forget about him and just enjoy the time we have together. Huh?"

Here he took his hand off of the wheel and cupped Fiddleford's face for a moment before letting go and putting it back.

"O-okay Stanford."

This trip had been rather last minute. Fiddleford knew that Stan had been feeling stifled with his brother's current work stress and research. He knew intimately well, being caught in the middle as he was since he was both Stanley's coworker and "assistant" in his personal research.

So he got to hear both of the twins complain about one another.

If only they communicated more…

But now was not the time for that. Right now the mission was to relax and pay attention to the boyfriend he hadn't been able to see for a while.

"H-how about some music?" Offered the smaller man as he turned on the radio.

Stanford's grin returned full force as some quality tunes came on.

"Oh yeah, that's the ticket!"

Fiddleford smiled, relieved, and decided not to bring the other Pines brother up again. If Stan wanted to talk about it he would.

The smaller man pulled up the new "Road Trip" map he had bought at the gas station and opened it up.

"So, anything of note coming up ahead Gilligan?" Asked Stan playfully.

Fiddleford smirked as he looked over the paper,

"Nothing for the moment Skipper, but if we take the 87 to the 7 we can check out the CrispyStar diner for lunch. It's advertised as having a pleasant '50's theme and excellent Belgian waffles."

"I like it!" Agreed Stanford.

From the corner of his eye he watched as his sandy haired lover grinned and turned back to the map, relaxed curiosity on his cute face. Stanford shifted in the chair a bit and thought of the little surprise he had hidden away in the duffle he had thrown in the trunk with Fiddleford's bag.

The ring he had bought had cost a pretty penny but it would be worth it.

Beaches were romantic places to pop the question, right?


End file.
